The Primrose Games
by HungerGames226
Summary: AU oneshot: Primrose Everdeen was never reaped. Katniss was, and Prim volunteered for her. The story starts mid-Games, and develops Prim and Rues friendship, survival, and how perseverance can help you meet a nearly impossible goal. Warning: rather long.
1. Chapter 1

"Rue," I whisper to the other 12 year-old, "Rue. We should get moving."

Rue's dark brown eyes flutter open, and she yawns. "Morning already?"

I nod, with a little smile. Our temporary home, a lame tent that Rue snagged from the Cornucopia, with a leaf and underbrush camouflage. It's worked so far. Rue and I are in the Final 6. Along with us are Cato and Clove, Thresh and Finch, the fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from district 5. Peeta died in the Bloodbath over five days ago.

After about ten minutes, Rue and I are packed up. All I could grab from the Cornucopia was a small backpack, but Rue grabbed a bigger one and a tent pack. At first, I deemed my findings useless, but there was a bottle of water, a purifier, and a medicine kit in there.

Rue taught me to climb trees. This is how we make our escape to the lake to refill our water bottles. "Take my hand," Rue says. She's in the next tree. It's a skill of hers; hopping from tree to tree, but a skill I have yet to master.

I clutch her hand for support as I tentatively put my foot on one of the tree's knobs. "Easy," Rue says reassuringly. "Just don't look down."

Of course, this is the only time I've ever thought about looking down. So now I do. We could be twenty feet in the air. I look back towards her with a worried expression. "I can't do this," I say in a panicked voice.

She remains perfectly calm. "Yes, you can. I've got you. Just let go of the tree trunk and put your other foot over here."

Cautiously, I do this. I slip my hand off the tree trunk and slowly but steadily put my foot on Rue's tree. I breathe a sigh of relief. I still hold Rue's hand.

And then I lose my balance. My foot slips off of the knob and I wave my free hand around, trying to steady myself.

But it's not enough. I fall and pull Rue down with me, by accident.

The next thing I know, I'm at the base of the forest floor, with an excruciating pain on my lower back and right ankle.

The next thing I hear is Rue's cannon.

~;~

"No," I say. "No!"

I look around, at the tree, at Rue's limp body. She was so full of life. She was my friend. My ally. And now she's gone from the world forever.

This is entirely my fault. If I had just let go like I was supposed to, she wouldn't be down her right now, her skull smashed in. I kiss her forehead, not knowing what to do, and take her backpack. A tear drips down my cheek onto her deformed cheek. She must've landed head-first. In that case, it was an instant death. I try not to think about the violent pain in my lower back, the difficulty it takes to move my feet. Rue's fate is much worse.

I will undoubtedly be live on every television in Panem right now. Whatever anyone else is doing won't be as important as this.

This is so morbid. Her face should be bright and shining, full of curiosity, like when I met her. She shouldn't be dead. She shouldn't be in the _arena. _None of us. Not me or her or Finch or Clove, or anyone else.

"I'm sorry," I whisper through silent tears, "Goodbye, Rue."

Without thinking, I stand up. I look up, and press my three middle fingers to my lips, extending them to the sky. I want to show how sorry I am for causing this.

I would've given Rue a proper funeral, but I have the sense to move on. I shouldn't dwell on her death, even if it was wrong. I have to look forward.

Five of us left. Me, Cato, Clove, Thresh and Finch. It's not going to be easy, but I'm going to make it. I _have _to.

That's when Claudius Templesmith makes an announcement.

"Attention - attention tributes. You have all been cordially invited to a feast. Hosted at the Cornucopia at dawn. But this is no ordinary feast. There is something each of you need desperately. And we plan to be. . ._generous _hosts."

This is the first time I've really thought about my injury. Probably a broken tailbone, sprained ankle. Maybe a couple ribs. The pack at the feast will probably hold Capitol gauze, to keep it steady.

I do need it desperately. Whatever remedies I come up with won't hold a candle to what they're providing for me.

I intend to go.

I must be about a half mile from the Cornucopia, deep in the woods. It will be a long, unbearable journey, but I'm going to need to go.

I haven't realized that I'm still only a few inches from Rue.

I gingerly tear a few strips off her pants near her ankle, and combine it with a few sticks. I put this on my left ankle to keep it steady. One injury dealt with.

I try to remember everything I can about pain-relieving herbs. There's this one, called Bellam, that I think numbs it to a degree. I just have to find water.

On my painful way to the lake, I pick up a few other herbs - ones that ease pain to a degree, some that I can apply to topical wounds, just in case. I stop and take a rest in the crook of a few roots from a large tree and swallow a few leaves, washed down with water. From Rue's pack, I allow myself a small handful of berries and some leftover groosling that we made from a snare Gale taught me before the Reaping. His plan was to educate me in case I was ever in this mess. But that, of course, was before I volunteered for Katniss.

Katniss would be better off as a tribute. I don't even know how I've made it this far. The only skill I have is in medicine. I could've trained with knives or a bow in the Training Center, but I could never kill another living soul.

Which is why I'm so confused.

I have outlasted 19 of us. 19 bigger, stronger, better-fed tributes have died before me. I have no weapons, not that I would use them, and all I have is a will to come home to Katniss and a few medicinal herbs.

I just go along and try to ignore the rumbling in my stomach.

It's been about two hours since my departure with Rue. Two, painstaking, wretched hour of getting closer to the Cornucopia, where, at the Feast, I could very well die. It's a lot darker now, although when Rue died it was just morning. The Gamemakers must have a say in the time that passes in the arena. Want to get to the feast quicker.

I plan not to sleep, and to eat only a little bit. This will give me an edge. Katniss would probably advise against it, but I know this is the best thing right now. I don't have food to waste. I have to last it out.

After all, it would be rude to leave my killer with no food in my pack.

LINE

Dawn is approaching, and the rumbling in my stomach has descended into a wracking pain in my stomach. This, along with my still-throbbing tailbone, my decrepit ankle, and my sore ribs, are enough to make me want death, here and now.

"I hope I die here," I whisper, just so the audience knows how much pain I'm in. Heck, maybe I'll get a sponsor and I won't even have to go to the Feast.

I quell the idea from my mind. Getting a sponsor right now would reveal my location, the last thing I want right now. "Just kidding," I say awkwardly, "I'm having a lot of fun."

I hope everyone's having a good laugh back home.

The sky lightens rapidly. Where's my feast?

There's a disturbance on the plain. I have to close my eyes to make sure it's real. The earth opens up, and up pops a table with four pretty little bags, marked 2, 5, 11 and 12.

A flash of red darts out of the Cornucopia. Finch! What a risky plan. What a _good _plan. I can see the she purposely left the other bags alone so no one would pursue her.

The stillness of the air tells me it's my turn now; everyone's waiting. Quickly I tighten my filthy blonde braids (there hasn't been much time to clean up), so that they won't come undone and distract me as I bolt to catch my bag.

I take a few deep breaths and adjust the splint on my foot, which has come sort of undone since yesterday. I try to find an excuse not to go, but I have to. If I don't go now, someone else will take my bag, leaving me crippled.

I bolt. I run as fast as I can out to the Cornucopia, ignoring the jabbing pain in my ankle. I can practically feel the cameras on my face. I grab my back and try to run back the way I came, but a knife slashes my chin, which overflows with blood. Clove runs after me, and throws another, but I dodge it. My bag is on the ground. Soon, she has me pinned to the long grass.

"Where's your little _friend, _District 12? How did _she _die? Did she fall out of one of those trees?"

I struggle for air. She's blocking my windpipe. "She's the only one we _didn't _kill. What was her name? Rue?"

She pulls out a knife, a small one with a cruel blade. She traces my chest. "I don't think you'll be needing your heart anymore, by the time we're done with you."

A huge force lifts her off of me. I gasp for air and see that my savior is Thresh, Rue's mammoth District partner. He has her lifted off the ground, against the Cornucopia.

"I heard you say her name!" Thresh growls.

"No! No! We didn't do it! It was her-"

Out of rage, Thresh slams her against the Cornucopia twice. She falls dead on the ground. Her cannon goes off. Thresh looks at me sympathetically, but takes his and Cato's bag and goes the opposite direction.

LINE

The golden crown sits atop my head after the President himself places it there. I don't smile, but I'm not unhappy, either. I won against all odds. A twelve year-old, from the poorest district, against people who trained their whole lives.

I outlasted Cato, who killed Thresh. Foxface died under unknown causes. It all happened that day of the Feast.

I had much more supplies than Cato, and they lost all of theirs in the wildfire that I escaped earlier on in the Games. Plus, I was used to being hungry. He wasn't, because he'd been fed properly his whole life.

Primrose Everdeen, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. It's a title I'll spend my whole life trying to forget, but it will never go away.

I'll have to mentor the District 12 tributes until I die. With Haymitch.

I'll have to live in the Victor's Village. Next to Haymitch.

I'd better get used to him. Or maybe he should get used to me.

The only female Victor before me was Flasive Miller, who is long dead. District 12 finally has another Victor, and she's 12.

The fancy Capitolian train is full of excitement. Effie's bouncing around, beaming because she was on the District 12 team. The only one who's not excited is me.

The only thing that keeps me going is that in a matter of hours, I'll be at home, with Katniss, mother and Buttercup.

But will my new home really be. . . home?


	2. ReUpload

"Rue," I whisper to the other 12 year-old, "Rue. We should get moving."

Rue's dark brown eyes flutter open, and she yawns. "Morning already?"

I nod, with a little smile. Our temporary home, a lame tent that Rue snagged from the Cornucopia, with a leaf and underbrush camouflage. It's worked so far. Rue and I are in the Final 6. Along with us are Cato and Clove, Thresh and Finch, the fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from district 5. Peeta died in the Bloodbath over five days ago.

After about ten minutes, Rue and I are packed up. All I could grab from the Cornucopia was a small backpack, but Rue grabbed a bigger one and a tent pack. At first, I deemed my findings useless, but there was a bottle of water, a purifier, and a medicine kit in there.

Rue taught me to climb trees. This is how we make our escape to the lake to refill our water bottles. "Take my hand," Rue says. She's in the next tree. It's a skill of hers; hopping from tree to tree, but a skill I have yet to master.

I clutch her hand for support as I tentatively put my foot on one of the tree's knobs. "Easy," Rue says reassuringly. "Just don't look down."

Of course, this is the only time I've ever thought about looking down. So now I do. We could be twenty feet in the air. I look back towards her with a worried expression. "I can't do this," I say in a panicked voice.

She remains perfectly calm. "Yes, you can. I've got you. Just let go of the tree trunk and put your other foot over here."

Cautiously, I do this. I slip my hand off the tree trunk and slowly but steadily put my foot on Rue's tree. I breathe a sigh of relief. I still hold Rue's hand.

And then I lose my balance. My foot slips off of the knob and I wave my free hand around, trying to steady myself.

But it's not enough. I fall and pull Rue down with me, by accident.

The next thing I know, I'm at the base of the forest floor, with an excruciating pain on my lower back and right ankle.

The next thing I hear is Rue's cannon.

~;~

"No," I say. "No!"

I look around, at the tree, at Rue's limp body. She was so full of life. She was my friend. My ally. And now she's gone from the world forever.

This is entirely my fault. If I had just let go like I was supposed to, she wouldn't be down her right now, her skull smashed in. I kiss her forehead, not knowing what to do, and take her backpack. A tear drips down my cheek onto her deformed cheek. She must've landed head-first. In that case, it was an instant death. I try not to think about the violent pain in my lower back, the difficulty it takes to move my feet. Rue's fate is much worse.

I will undoubtedly be live on every television in Panem right now. Whatever anyone else is doing won't be as important as this.

This is so morbid. Her face should be bright and shining, full of curiosity, like when I met her. She shouldn't be dead. She shouldn't be in the _arena. _None of us. Not me or her or Finch or Clove, or anyone else.

"I'm sorry," I whisper through silent tears, "Goodbye, Rue."

Without thinking, I stand up. I look up, and press my three middle fingers to my lips, extending them to the sky. I want to show how sorry I am for causing this.

I would've given Rue a proper funeral, but I have the sense to move on. I shouldn't dwell on her death, even if it was wrong. I have to look forward.

Five of us left. Me, Cato, Clove, Thresh and Finch. It's not going to be easy, but I'm going to make it. I _have _to.

That's when Claudius Templesmith makes an announcement.

"Attention - attention tributes. You have all been cordially invited to a feast. Hosted at the Cornucopia at dawn. But this is no ordinary feast. There is something each of you need desperately. And we plan to be. . ._generous _hosts."

This is the first time I've really thought about my injury. Probably a broken tailbone, sprained ankle. Maybe a couple ribs. The pack at the feast will probably hold Capitol gauze, to keep it steady.

I do need it desperately. Whatever remedies I come up with won't hold a candle to what they're providing for me.

I intend to go.

I must be about a half mile from the Cornucopia, deep in the woods. It will be a long, unbearable journey, but I'm going to need to go.

I haven't realized that I'm still only a few inches from Rue.

I gingerly tear a few strips off her pants near her ankle, and combine it with a few sticks. I put this on my left ankle to keep it steady. One injury dealt with.

I try to remember everything I can about pain-relieving herbs. There's this one, called Bellam, that I think numbs it to a degree. I just have to find water.

On my painful way to the lake, I pick up a few other herbs - ones that ease pain to a degree, some that I can apply to topical wounds, just in case. I stop and take a rest in the crook of a few roots from a large tree and swallow a few leaves, washed down with water. From Rue's pack, I allow myself a small handful of berries and some leftover groosling that we made from a snare Gale taught me before the Reaping. His plan was to educate me in case I was ever in this mess. But that, of course, was before I volunteered for Katniss.

Katniss would be better off as a tribute. I don't even know how I've made it this far. The only skill I have is in medicine. I could've trained with knives or a bow in the Training Center, but I could never kill another living soul.

Which is why I'm so confused.

I have outlasted 19 of us. 19 bigger, stronger, better-fed tributes have died before me. I have no weapons, not that I would use them, and all I have is a will to come home to Katniss and a few medicinal herbs.

I just go along and try to ignore the rumbling in my stomach.

It's been about two hours since my departure with Rue. Two, painstaking, wretched hour of getting closer to the Cornucopia, where, at the Feast, I could very well die. It's a lot darker now, although when Rue died it was just morning. The Gamemakers must have a say in the time that passes in the arena. Want to get to the feast quicker.

I plan not to sleep, and to eat only a little bit. This will give me an edge. Katniss would probably advise against it, but I know this is the best thing right now. I don't have food to waste. I have to last it out.

After all, it would be rude to leave my killer with no food in my pack.

* * *

Dawn is approaching, and the rumbling in my stomach has descended into a wracking pain in my stomach. This, along with my still-throbbing tailbone, my decrepit ankle, and my sore ribs, are enough to make me want death, here and now.

"I hope I die here," I whisper, just so the audience knows how much pain I'm in. Heck, maybe I'll get a sponsor and I won't even have to go to the Feast.

I quell the idea from my mind. Getting a sponsor right now would reveal my location, the last thing I want right now. "Just kidding," I say awkwardly, "I'm having a lot of fun."

I hope everyone's having a good laugh back home.

The sky lightens rapidly. Where's my feast?

There's a disturbance on the plain. I have to close my eyes to make sure it's real. The earth opens up, and up pops a table with four pretty little bags, marked 2, 5, 11 and 12.

A flash of red darts out of the Cornucopia. Finch! What a risky plan. What a _good _plan. I can see the she purposely left the other bags alone so no one would pursue her.

The stillness of the air tells me it's my turn now; everyone's waiting. Quickly I tighten my filthy blonde braids (there hasn't been much time to clean up), so that they won't come undone and distract me as I bolt to catch my bag.

I take a few deep breaths and adjust the splint on my foot, which has come sort of undone since yesterday. I try to find an excuse not to go, but I have to. If I don't go now, someone else will take my bag, leaving me crippled.

I bolt. I run as fast as I can out to the Cornucopia, ignoring the jabbing pain in my ankle. I can practically feel the cameras on my face. I grab my back and try to run back the way I came, but a knife slashes my chin, which overflows with blood. Clove runs after me, and throws another, but I dodge it. My bag is on the ground. Soon, she has me pinned to the long grass.

"Where's your little _friend, _District 12? How did _she _die? Did she fall out of one of those trees?"

I struggle for air. She's blocking my windpipe. "She's the only one we _didn't _kill. What was her name? Rue?"

She pulls out a knife, a small one with a cruel blade. She traces my chest. "I don't think you'll be needing your heart anymore, by the time we're done with you."

A huge force lifts her off of me. I gasp for air and see that my savior is Thresh, Rue's mammoth District partner. He has her lifted off the ground, against the Cornucopia.

"I heard you say her name!" Thresh growls.

"No! No! We didn't do it! It was her-"

Out of rage, Thresh slams her against the Cornucopia twice. She falls dead on the ground. Her cannon goes off. Thresh looks at me sympathetically, but takes his and Cato's bag and goes the opposite direction.

* * *

The golden crown sits atop my head after the President himself places it there. I don't smile, but I'm not unhappy, either. I won against all odds. A twelve year-old, from the poorest district, against people who trained their whole lives.

I outlasted Cato, who killed Thresh. Foxface died under unknown causes. It all happened that day of the Feast.

I had much more supplies than Cato, and they lost all of theirs in the wildfire that I escaped earlier on in the Games. Plus, I was used to being hungry. He wasn't, because he'd been fed properly his whole life.

Primrose Everdeen, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. It's a title I'll spend my whole life trying to forget, but it will never go away.

I'll have to mentor the District 12 tributes until I die. With Haymitch.

I'll have to live in the Victor's Village. Next to Haymitch.

I'd better get used to him. Or maybe he should get used to me.

The only female Victor before me was Flasive Miller, who is long dead. District 12 finally has another Victor, and she's 12.

The fancy Capitolian train is full of excitement. Effie's bouncing around, beaming because she was on the District 12 team. The only one who's not excited is me.

The only thing that keeps me going is that in a matter of hours, I'll be at home, with Katniss, mother and Buttercup.

But will my new home really be. . . home?


End file.
